


grief

by theoriginalzinc



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anger, High Angst, Implied Cancer, M/M, Prompt: Emotional Gut Punch, Sorry Not Sorry, Victor POV, stages of grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 18:30:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17813198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoriginalzinc/pseuds/theoriginalzinc
Summary: He was standing in the kitchen, water glass now empty. Victor watched him, observed him for the first time since they’d left the office. He looked the same as he always had. Victor should be savoring it, burning this image of how He is now into his mind forever, but he can’t. Victor looks away, walking stiffly over to the couch and sitting down. He waves a hand at the dogs, but they don’t join him, following Him instead as he pulls his cell phone from his pocket and heads into their bedroom. Victor turns on the TV and just lets whatever starts playing run as he sits there.





	grief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wunkind (guysinmyhead)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guysinmyhead/gifts).



It was silent in the car on the way back. It was hard for it not to feel like a betrayal. Victor was the one driving, hands steady on the wheel, eyes forward, face stoically cold. Rationally, this was one of the stages of grief — Anger. Victor didn’t see it for what it was, though, just felt it running hot through his veins as he turned down their familiar drive and pulled the car into the garage. The silence continued as they both exited the car. Victor didn’t slam the door, didn’t stalk inside and shut himself up in their bedroom. He waited for Him to walk around his side of the car, let him enter the house first, watched as the dogs came up to sniff at Him. Victor held a hand out to scratch one’s head when it briefly ran over to him, but it didn’t stay long, running after Him when he stepped into the kitchen, pouring Himself a glass of water.

 

Victor deposited his keys in the bowl by the door, stepping out of his shoes. Chelsea boots, well worn for only being a few months old. A birthday gift. He tried not to resent them. He wasn’t sure what to do next. The uncertainty hit him as soon as he’d dropped the boots on the shoe rack, a wall of utter blankness washing over him.

 

He was standing in the kitchen, water glass now empty. Victor watched him, observed him for the first time since they’d left the office. He looked the same as he always had. Victor should be savoring it, burning this image of how He is now into his mind forever, but he can’t. Victor looks away, walking stiffly over to the couch and sitting down. He waves a hand at the dogs, but they don’t join him, following Him instead as he pulls his cell phone from his pocket and heads into their bedroom. Victor turns on the TV and just lets whatever starts playing run as he sits there. Victor doesn’t see Him again until dinnertime, when He emerges from their room. They share a sparse dinner, leftovers from last night. They sit across from one another, but they don’t share words. Victor is still stewing. It’s not fair, what he’s doing, really, but he can’t bring himself to stop. It’s far easier to let himself keep feeling like this. They go to bed not long after dinner. It’s a cold night.

 

—

 

Every week is worse. Things happen rapidly. They go to Japan. Victor is surrounded by His family, in the place where They first got to know each other. This time, they share a room, but it’s not long before they can no longer share a bed. It’s too difficult. When this news is delivered, Victor sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. This, for some reason, feels like yet another betrayal, a decision made without his input, even though he knows he would have agreed. The other bed doesn’t fit in that room very well. Victor returns home from a walk one day to find the family moving the bed into the room next door. Seeing this, Victor turns round and walks out.

 

He knows they’re speaking about him behind his back. Even though they know he can’t speak their language fluently, they at least do him the courtesy of refraining from gossiping while they know he’s nearby. There are many times when he walks in only to have everyone turn silent and look away. This doesn’t bother him too much, really. It somehow feels right. He won’t be a part of their lives much longer anyway.

 

Victor receives several calls, texts, Facetime requests, but he ignores them all. He doesn’t wish to see or speak to anyone. He can’t ignore them, though, when people start coming around. Their mutual friends come in to visit. They’re shocked at what they see. By Him most of all, of course. Anyone would be. It was incredible how much things could change in only a few weeks. Victor tried not to look at Him much, which only made the changes all the more shocking.

 

Apparently he’s changed as well. It’s like how you don’t notice yourself growing taller or your hair growing longer. Victor feels the same, maybe a bit more tired, a bit more weary. It’s a familiar feeling. He remembers feeling this way not too long ago. Maybe a bit less angry, less volatile, but the overwhelming emptiness he feels most days is so familiar it’s almost comforting. Chris comes to visit a couple weeks in, and it annoys Victor how he’s giving Victor more attention than he’s giving Him. Chris doesn’t leave him alone, despite all of Victor’s efforts. He should be here to see Him, not Victor.

 

Victor is sitting outside one evening, on the front steps. Victor had gotten a call from his dog sitter about one of the dogs throwing up that morning. He feels more concern for the dog than he does about Him. This doesn’t bother him. He’s out there on the steps, thinking about the dog, about what he might’ve eaten, thinking that if it gets worse, he might have to go out there to check on him. It reminds him of when he flew back from Russia to come here, to this house, to check on his dog. At His request. Hot anger bubbles up, and Victor feels his face flush and he rubs at the bridge of his nose. This is when Chris comes out to join him.

 

“Hey,” Chris says casually, settling down beside Victor. Victor glances sideways at him, but then looks back down. “How are you doing?”

 

“Fine,” Victor says.

 

“Really?” Chris asks. He’s pushing, pressing in. Victor doesn’t look at him.

 

“Well, one of the dogs is sick,” Victor says.

 

Chris hums. “I see. Is it serious?”

 

“Not sure yet. I told the dog sitter to tell me if she throws up again.”

 

“What are you going to do,” Chris asks, “if it turns serious?”

 

Victor doesn’t have to think about it. “I’ll go out to see her.”

 

Chris takes a deep breath. “So you’d leave here?”

 

“Yes,” Victor says without hesitation.

 

“Now, while all of this is happening?”

 

Victor turns to him, sending him a sharp look. “Yes, I would.” He can feel himself heating up. Maybe he should just go ahead and leave already. The dog was just an excuse, not that he would admit it to anyone.

 

Chris doesn’t say anything, but he looks so hurt to see Victor say that. “Victor,” he says. He opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it. He seems to be searching for words. “You should talk to Him,” he says eventually. Victor recoils, turning away. He nearly stands and walks off. “It’s not right,” he continues. “The way you two have been. I know it must be hard. I can’t imagine what this is like for either of you. But,” he pauses, swallowing. “But, you can’t just avoid this. You should be together.”

 

Victor doesn’t say anything. He wants to. A million refusals, rebuttals, rejections are swirling through him, but he can’t get a firm hold on any of them, so he stays quiet. He doesn’t want to hear this. Chris is quiet too, for a short time. 

“You should talk to Him. I know He wants to see you, but He won’t say anything.”

 

Rage flashes through Victor. “That’s a lie,” he hisses. Chris’s eyes blow wide, stunned by the outburst. “He doesn’t want to see me, and I don’t want to see Him,” he continues. “If He did, He— He wouldve—“ Victor stops himself. “It doesn’t matter. He chose this.”

 

Chris frowns. “He _chose_ this?”

 

Victor doesn’t respond.

 

“Don’t ignore me,” Chris presses. “How could he have _chosen_ this? Why would _anyone_ choose this?”

 

Victor doesn’t respond. 

“Well?”

 

Victor turns toward him, lashing out. “Yes! He made all of these decisions on his own. He doesn’t want me involved with this, so I won’t be.” Victor stands. Chris stands, too, and reaches out to grab his arm. Victor snatches his arm away and stalks off. Chris tries to follow, but Victor locks his bedroom door behind him.

 

Chris leaves a few days later. Victor is careful not to allow him to corner him again. Chris spends most of the rest of his time with Him. When the day of his departure comes, Victor makes sure he’s out of the house.

 

—

 

Phichit arrives shortly after. He spends nearly all of his time with Him, paying almost no attention to Victor at all. This is fine with Victor. It’s how he prefers it. Things become difficult when, just a few days later, Yuri turns up. Victor’s been so good at being sparse these days that he’d completely missed the announcement that Yuri would be arriving at all. He visits with Him, but then he turns his attention all on Victor.

 

Victor can hardly get any time to himself anymore. Yuri pushes him to visit with Him, and when Victor tries to slip away, they get into loud and violent shouting matches. When it becomes clear that Yuri has no intentions of leaving, and neither does Phichit, Victor puts more and more thought into just leaving it all behind. He doesn’t know why he’s stayed this long to begin with. There’s no reason for him to be here at all.

 

Yuri, on his way to drag Victor to join them for dinner, sees him placing a rolled up sweater into a suitcase. Victor doesn’t try to disguise what he’s doing or hide the already packed bag behind him. Yuri tears out of the room and down the hall, cursing him the whole way there. Victor takes a slow, deep breath, and calmly continues packing his things up. He hears Yuri screaming about him from down the hall, announcing to the family Victor’s intentions to leave. He doesn’t go out there to defend himself. Everything Yuri is saying about him is true.

 

He hears footsteps approaching his door after Yuri’s ranting has died down. He expects it to be him, coming back to chew Victor out face to face. It’s not. It’s His mother, a sad look on her face. He’s midway through folding a pair of trousers.

 

“Oh,” she says quietly. She steps inside the room. She looks at the luggage, then up at him, eyes watering. She reaches out, pulling him into her arms. He doesn’t pull back. She’s crying, he realizes a moment later. He sinks down onto the bed, and joins her.

 

Victor stays. Yuri shouts at him later, and His sister glares at him every time they’re in the same room together, but Victor stays. Phichit seems to be the only one who treats him no differently. Victor spends more time in his room, lights off, door closed. He can hear the activity in the room next door, but he never goes out to join them.

 

—

 

It becomes clear the end is coming soon. He hasn’t been able to get out of bed for several days now, and it’s becoming more difficult for Him to speak. Most days the house is silent. Even Yuri is subdued. Victor relishes the silence. He finds himself dreaming about life afterward. He’ll finally be able to leave this all behind. He can go back home and resume his normal life. He misses the dogs.

 

There’s not much to do but wait. His parents, His sister, and Phichit spend most of their time in His room, attending to Him and keeping Him company. Yuri is in and out. Victor’s learned their footsteps by now. He slips out into the kitchen for food every once in a while. It’s been pretty sparse the last few weeks, but Victor has long since lost his appetite.

 

—

 

Victor is awake when it happens. Someone knocks on his door, quietly. It’s Phichit. He’s distraught. Victor knows. He steps into the room next door for the first time in weeks. His mother, father, and sister are all there, surrounding Him. Victor approaches slowly, quietly. He’s trying not to wake Him, he realizes belatedly. As he stares down at Him, Victor realizes just how much He’s changed. He can barely recognize him at this point, but he would know that face anywhere. The shape of his nose. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his ears. The rest of him is buried under the sickness. Yes, He was sick, Victor tells himself. He was suffering. This whole time. And Victor refused to even look at him.

 

_No, he chose this,_ a voice in the back of Victor’s mind says, but Victor is no longer convinced. Yes, he made the decision to opt out of treatment, but there was nothing to be done. He just wanted to spend what time he had left with his family and his friends. Victor was supposed to be a part of that. He was supposed to have been there, next to him. He should have been there. And he wasn’t. That was Victor’s choice.

 

There’s movement around him, but he’s frozen where he is, looking down at His face. Eventually he’s pulled away, he’s not sure by who, and brought into the living room with everyone else as He’s taken away. He can’t look anyone in the eye. That’s Yuuri, his husband, the love of his life. The man who changed his life. Who saved him. And they’re taking him away. And he will never return. He’s gone. And he never said goodbye. Even though he was in the room right next door this whole time.

 

Victor excuses himself to the garden. He’s alone. He weeps.

 

—

 

They have a ceremony for Yuuri. Victor doesn’t feel right at the ceremony, but he’s there all the same. Chris is there, too, and he gives Victor a firm hug. He tells Victor that he understands, that he’s there for him. Victor doesn’t feel he deserves it. Yuuri’s life is celebrated around the world by his fans and the whole skating community. Victor doesn’t say anything publicly. He has no right to. He’s been offline for a while now, and it seems that no one expected him to break his silence right away, anyway.

 

He returns to Russia. When he enters their apartment, the dogs run up to him, barking with excitement. He sinks down to the ground, nearly collapsing, and they run over him, sniffing him all over. The door is still open, and they run out briefly to see if anyone is with him. There’s not.

 

Their little messes are still there. Yuuri’s clothes still hang in their closet. Their wedding glasses are still in the display case in the dining room. Victor is still wearing his wedding ring. Yuuri was buried in his. Eyes glassy, he looks at it. It slips off his finger easily. He places it on his dresser, then into the top drawer. He has no right to wear it.

 

Victor sleeps on the couch. The dogs sleep on the bed. He is alone. That is the way things should be.

**Author's Note:**

> for my dear friend wunkind bc she pulled me out of fandom retirement for this fic (and bc she won't enter it into her angst contest smh). 
> 
> sorry fam.


End file.
